Call It A Day
by snarechan
Summary: When Sam's mother gets fed up with his and Bumblebee's antics there's no more holding back.


Call It A Day

By Snare-chan

**Pairings**: Ron/Judy I guess since they're married?  
**Ratings**: K+  
**Category(ies)**: Humor  
**Warning(s)**: None  
**Status**: Oneshot, complete  
**Summary**: When Sam's mother gets fed up with his and Bumblebee's antics there's no more holding back.

**Notes**: I didn't really have a reason behind this one – I just wanted to write for fun and include often overlooked characters. Cassandra Cassidy temporary came out of retirement to beta read this story, of which I'm eternally grateful! This takes place before the second (2009) movie.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Transformers; wish I did like everybody else. They should put TF in stock, then I'd buy it all!

* * *

"Irresponsible," Mrs. Judy Witwicky snapped, glaring at her son, Sam, and his yellow Camaro, Bumblebee, alike. "Absolutely inexcusable!"

Behind her, Ron Witwicky stood with his arms crossed over his chest and feet planted apart. He was no happier than his wife, but he let her be the main villain. She was on a roll, as in, steamrolling down on top of them like the angry fist of a disappointed goddess, and he'd been married to her long enough to understand that it was either let her vent or be on the receiving end of her rage with the two of them.

He chose life, consequently.

"I can accept that this is new and fun to you, and your father and I can let slide you breaking curfew, forgetting to do your chores, and skipping school to save the world, but I draw the line at _joyriding _like crazed maniacs through the streets of the city!"

"But _Mom_," Sam said, finally getting a word in and pulling his adorable-and-imploring-baby-cub trump card early, "we weren't even driving that far over the speed limit, and it was out by the lake."

"Don't you use that tone on me young man; it hasn't worked for well over a decade, and no excuses!" his mother said, still snapping. She pulled out several white slips of paper from her pocket and started rifling through them, though by this point she'd memorized the words written on them. "You two were recorded clocking sixty in a twenty-five mph zone, evaded a policeman for five miles, and almost got carted off to jail _again!_"

She tossed the tickets Sam and Bumblebee had accumulated that day as she read off the charges, Ron catching them as she flung them angrily over her shoulder. When she had none left she kept her arms raised and waved her hands a tad wildly.

"See, you always do this, mom," Sam huffed, exasperated. "You turn a situation into something worse than it is; isn't that Dad's job?"

"You hush son, and listen to your mother! You're in deep enough trouble as it is," his father said, chiming in at last and waving a warning finger at him that Sam had to fight not to roll his eyes at.

"Yes, sir."

In that time, Judy had done a couple of breathing exercises and come to some conclusion.

"This is just – it's _dangerous_, Sam. We raised you better than this. Ever since you bought…uh, invited? this car into our home-"

"It's not _his fault_, Mom! I told Bumblebee to hurry and the policeman was totally exaggerating; we were _maybe _going thirty-five or forty, and Bumblebee thought I was in danger. That's all!"

His parents gave him a skeptical, withering look that was then given to the yellow vehicle in their presence. The car wasn't forthcoming with anything to say, partially because he couldn't talk that well, still, and partially because Sam had warned him to let him do the talking, lest Bumblebee dig them a deeper hole. Sometimes he did that by accident.

"Look, I'll…get a summer job to pay off the tickets, and I promise to be home _before _curfew and do double the amount of chores, okay?"

Mrs. Witwicky scoffed, but it was apparent by the loosening of her shoulders that she was at least somewhat appeased by the offering.

"Very well, but you're not off the hook quite yet, Samuel James Witwicky! Your father will come up with another punishment-"

"I will?"

At the stern glance she tossed at him, Ron nodded his head.

"Right! Be ready to work your butt off, son."

That felt to be the end of the discussion, except that Sam's mother opened up with another issue of business.

"And furthermore, your yellow friend isn't off the hook, either. I'm going to have to have a long talk with his superior about the bad influence _his _son is having on you."

"What?" Sam asked, the pitch of his voice reaching near-chipmunk proportions due to his surprise. At the same time, Bumblebee honked his horn, just as shocked.

"You both heard me. This reckless behavior has to stop and I'm sure his father will agree after I tell him about your shenanigans today."

"Uh, Honey… Optimus Prime is an important guy, like…"

"He's like their robot _president_," Sam supplied helpfully, distressed at the implications of what his mother was proposing to do.

Ron nodded, taking his wife by the arm.

"Right, their president! I'm sure he's too busy to be bothered."

"Nonsense! He's a parent, too, and should be held accountable like anyone else. Even President Bush has to take care of his daughters when they act up," she pointed out.

Judy walked over to Bumblebee and demanded, "Get him on the phone, please, and none of that phony voice business. I'm not falling for that a second time."

Ron exchanged an unsure glance with Sam, who in turn transferred an unsure glance to Bumblebee, who shifted his headlights in his driver's direction – his form of an unsure glance.

"Well?" she asked, impatient.

"Best to get it over with now," Ron said, "or she's bound to make up a worse punishment for the two of you herself. Trust me, it won't be pretty."

Bumblebee's engine gave a whine, which could have meant any number of things, before his glove compartment popped open to reveal a phone. When she picked up the receiver, it was already ringing. By the time someone picked up on the other end, Sam was nearly finished biting the nails completely off on one hand.

"What seems to be the problem, Bumblebee?"

Nobody could believe he'd actually answered the call.

"Actually Mr. Prime, this is Judy Witwicky speaking," she greeted, using the authoritative voice she'd had practice using on the parents of Sam's other friends and bullies past – like years ago when she'd had to call Miles' mother about his large dog almost eating Mojo when the other boy brought Mason over to visit. "I have some concerns to discuss with you."

Though the two men couldn't quite make out what was being said, they hovered closer in an attempt to eavesdrop, though their sly attempts failed since Judy picked up on their close proximity and waved a hand to signal them to give her some breathing room. Bumblebee was no doubt tapping into the call and would clue them in later.

"I see," Optimus Prime said, after a drawn out pause. "Please, go on. What are your concerns?"

"It's about your son, Bumblebee, and mine, Sam Witwicky," she went on, as if Optimus Prime wasn't already aware of who she could possibly be talking to him about. "Are you aware that your boy took _my_ baby _joyriding?_"

"_Mom!_" Sam shouted, putting forth the full strength of his teenage indignation. "_Seriously?_"

"I was indeed given a full report on their recent activities, and have personally taken the steps necessary to ensure that Sam will not be held accountable in the eyes of human law."

"What can I expect to be done to make sure this doesn't happen again?"

"Bumblebee will be reprimanded, and you will have my word as well as his that he will uphold a safer standard of driving while your son is present."

"Well, _good_," Judy said, sounding as if the wind blowing her sails had vanished. She was accustomed to putting up fights with the other parents, the ones that denied that their children could ever be capable of doing any wrong. "And might I suggest having Bumblebee review some road safety footage? Just because he's an alien robot doesn't mean he shouldn't have proper training."

"A reasonable suggestion, Mrs. Witwicky. I will search for two-hundred hours' worth and see that he reviews them meticulously. Will that be all?"

Bumblebee's tires seemed to deflate at the account, giving him a defeated, slumped air. Sam gave him a sympathetic pat on the hood. Judy, on the other hand, was very satisfied and gave the phone a nod, though Optimus Prime was incapable of seeing the gesture.

"Yes, that'll be all. Thank you for taking the time to speak with me; I always knew you were a nice man…truck. Goodbye, Mr. Prime."

"Good day to you, Mrs. Witwicky."

She hung up the phone and ushered Sam towards the house, the matter settled just like that.

"Alright, now that that's finished, inside with you! The dishes and laundry aren't going to do themselves, and your friend here has some movies to watch."

They resigned themselves to their fate.

-Fin-


End file.
